Hero of Legend
by SurprisinglyOdd
Summary: Skyrim has been plunged into chaos. The snowfall has been stained with crimson and brother turns on brother as the civil war tears the land apart. The enemy lurks against a backdrop of blood and betrayal, and Thales Rosewhite returns to her homeland with a longing for adventure. The World-Eater wakes and the wheel turns upon the last Dragonborn, the only one who can save the world.
1. Chapter 1

**_4E 201 28th Sun's Dusk_**

_And the scrolls have foretold_

_Of black wings in the cold,_

_That when heroes wage war come unfurled._

_Alduin, Bane of Kings_

_Ancient shadow unbound,_

_With a hunger to swallow the world._

_- Song of the Dragonborn_

* * *

**T**he snowy plains of Skyrim were a blur around her. Snow-capped trees and gently flowing rivers fell far into the distance almost as quickly as they had passed. An almighty _crack_ of leather reins and the mare was galloping rapidly across the winding path, her hooves slamming against the cobblestone beneath. The wind rushed through the woman's hair, beat against her face, and she was _alive. _She was alive in the greatest sense, unable to suppress a giddy laugh of abandonment as her horse raced through the trees. She was ecstatic and she was free and nothing in all of Nirn would stop her.

She was home.

She had never expected to die so suddenly, nor so young in her life. On the oft-times she contemplated it, she imagined her death to be something that would be told in stories and songs. She had at least expected to die with a blade completing her arm, and with her lungs full of cold, crisp air laced with the scent of blood. Never did she imagine this. Not this. The wind deafened her to the anguished cry of the mount beneath her. Before she could react the horse was on the ground, writhing in pain and kicking its legs in agony. She hadn't heard her own yell of terror as she was flung from the squealing mare and down onto the ground with a heavy thud. The rest was all an obscure display of red and white in the corners of her vision as her head smacked against the hard stone, a trickle of hot liquid staining her vision with crimson.

It was all footfall from then, and the clashing of steel ringing proudly for all the heavens to hear. Thales Rosewhite was forgotten on the ground, blinded by a sea of red and blue, with the snowy mountains of Skyrim so far out of reach. Before she died she heard it, the roar of a great beast in the distance. She fancied that it was a dragon, just like the old stories. Her father had told her all about dragons, and when the fire had crackled in the hearth she could have sworn that she could see one of the scaled beasts exhaling flames over the burning coal. She could see her father now. So close, so nearly beside her. Her vision doubled and the raucous clanging of swords was faint and distorted, coming from somewhere far, far away. Thales Rosewhite slipped away slowly, her dying breath so soft and unheard. Her life's blood pooled around her, draining her, killing her.

And then the world was gone.

* * *

**"I**t isn't _fair_, papa. Sven says that girls can't be warriors. Sven says that girls can't even hold swords! He said his papa told him so."

"Did he now?"

"Yes! I'll beat him up with _my _sword that _I _made. That'll show him, right? He's just a big, fat liar."

"Aye, that he is, my sweet. And someday you'll prove him wrong, when you're big enough to go out into the world and fight dragons, just like Olaf did. You'll make your papa proud, I know."

"But... But There are no more dragons. They haven't been seen for ages, right?"

"Aha, you're a smart little lass, remembering everything your papa told you. Well, since you're so clever, maybe you can be a scholar. You could join the College of Winterhold and be a mage."

"Nah. I wanna be a warrior, like in the stories. Can I get my own sword and armour too? And have my own stories and songs? Could I do that? _Please?"_

"Anything, my sweet. I'll forge your blade from the finest steel, and you can use it in whatever way you want, when you're old enough. Now, how about another story and then off to bed with you?"

"Okay! Which one, which one?"

"Your turn to pick."

"The dragon one! The dragon one! And do the good part first!"

"Alright, alright...

"_When misrule takes its place at the eight corners of the world,_

_When the Brass Tower walks and Time is reshaped,_

_When the thrice-blessed fail and the Red Tower trembles,_

_When the Dragonborn Ruler loses his throne, and the White Tower falls,_

_When the Snow Tower lies sundered, kingless, bleeding,_

_The World-Eater wakes, and the Wheel turns upon the Last Dragonborn."_

* * *

**S**he stirred to the galloping of hooves clopping against hard cobblestone, and with pain pounding against her temples like the fists of a frost troll against cave walls. Her eyelids fluttered and a soft groan escaped her lips as her senses slowly returned. Upon opening her eyes she found herself blinded by bright rays of sunlight passing through the leaves of tall oak trees, each one graced with the lightest dusting of snow. She found that she was passing through a forest, and an unfamiliar one at that. Or perhaps her memory had failed her and she had passed through here a million times before. But she was in Skyrim. She knew it by the bitter chill in the air, even despite the sun burning high above in a cloudless sky. And she was in a carriage, horse-drawn, slowly descending down a lazily sloping hill.

"Looks like our female companion has finally returned to the land of the living," a warm voice remarked. Thales frowned, and turned her attention towards the man seated across from her. He was a Nord without a doubt, as was made apparent by his long blonde hair, partly braided and matched in length by a shaggy beard of the same colour. He wore a blue, scaled garb with a scabbard at his thigh, empty of a blade. He acknowledged her with an expression of light-hearted amusement, but his eyes betrayed a sense of regret, a sense of sadness. "You picked a bad time to come home to Skyrim, lass. A very bad time."

"Where... Where are we?" She croaked, straightening her back and shifting in her seat. She flinched at the simple movement, finding that her wrists were bound by tightly knotted ropes that scratched and burned her skin with each twist and turn of her hands. "What is this?" She demanded suddenly. "Where are we going?"

He shook his head slowly. "I'm afraid I don't know, friend. But Sovngarde awaits."

_What_?!

No. No, that was impossible. She been home in what felt like an age, and here she was now bound like a common criminal in a carriage full of strangers! Something was wrong; there had been a misunderstanding and her captors would allow her to go free once they realised the foolishness of their err. But the carriage maintained its steady pace down the hill, and the driver was whistling a careless tune. _The driver, _she thought. With a quick turn of her head she saw that he wore a garb of red and brown leather. Imperial leather.

"Don't look so frightened, lass. I myself have had enough time to contemplate things, and I will embrace death with my dignity and honour. I have served my homeland well in life, and I will celebrate with my fallen comrades in death. I would advise that you hold on to such a comfort, lest your death be lonely and cold."

She ignored the stranger's ramble, unconcerned with his ridiculous advice. How could he stand in the face of death and give in so passively? She would not stand for such a thing, not with hot Nordic blood flowing through her veins. She had a Nord's pride and a Nord's thumping heart, and she would scream only one thing into the face of death.

_Not today._

But screaming would not help her now.

"What in Nirn could I possibly have done to be carted away like a cow for slaughter?!"

The driver ordered them to be silent, but she pretended not to hear. The stranger looked at her and sighed sadly. "You haven't been home for a long time, have you, Thales?" She froze, taken aback as he spoke her name. "I assumed that even in Cyrodiil you would have been given news about the war here in Skyrim, against the Imperials. Why, you are sitting in the presence of Ulfric Stormcloak himself, leader of the Stormcloak rebellion and the true High King of Skyrim."

She scoffed at this man's foolishness, but could not resist a sideways glance towards the man next to her. Sure enough, there sat a man dressed in heavy layers of fur. She could not see his face clearly for the gag around the lower half of his face, but she could make out a mane of reddish hair and see his solemn eyes gazing out into the distance, sad with contemplation. She recognised him at once as Ulfric Stormcloak, the Jarl of Windhelm, from likenesses painted in books and posters from back in Cyrodiil.

"How did you know my name, stranger?" She asked. Icicles hung from every word as she averted his gaze, instead moving to look down at her feet. She cursed herself inwardly, remembering how she had changed from steel-plate armour to a simple green dress before heading across the border. She had been too damn cocksure as usual, believing that no beast could harm her even if she was dressed as a farmer's young daughter. She cursed herself again for being an arrogant fool.

He gave a low chuckle. "Have I truly changed so much? It has only been what, five summers now?"

She glanced upwards and saw him then as the young, smiling boy whom he had once been. She saw the boy who had urged her to sneak out late to play knights with their wooden swords, the child who would drag her away from the blacksmith's and throw her into the river while Faendal was chopping wood, just to make the wood elf jealous. He would laugh at her angered expression, make mockery of her reddened ears and the glowing tip of her nose, and she would laugh with him before they disappeared together beyond the village gates. She looked into this stranger's eyes and found her childhood friend so suddenly, sitting right there in front of her. Her best friend.

_"Ralof?"_

"It's been too long, Thales."

Her lips spread into a wide grin, very much despite the circumstances of their reunion. Her body was urgent to reach out and hug the man, but her binds restricted her. She began to reply in a babble of excitement before a sharp voice cut through her words. It came from a man with raven hair seated next to Ralof. She had not even noticed him until now.

"Oh, of course, you two can sit here and catch up while we're being delivered to our deaths, that's no problem at all! Do you not understand, woman? You and me, we're both going to die, and we shouldn't even be here! It's these damned Stormcloaks the Empire wants! You're a strong-looking Nord, you can tell them, convince them to-"

"Enough of your nonsense," Ralof warned. "Face your death with some courage, thief. Your ramblings will do you no good here. Not where we're going."

"No... No, this can't be happening. This isn't happening! You, woman, tell him!"

Thales closed her eyes and allowed the thief to ramble on, hearing him send desperate prayers to Divine and Daedra alike, his voice quavering uncontrollably with fear. Meanwhile the carriage continued its steady onward pace, the sun warming Thales' face as it peered out from over the mountains. She wanted to climb every one and draw pictures of the view ahead. She wanted to delve into every cave and dive into every lake. She wanted to see everything in Skyrim, visit every hold, drink at every inn, meet everyone there was to meet and sing loudly to every song she knew. But everything outside the carriage seemed so far out of reach, and the home she knew was a million miles away.

For a while the journey was alive with conversation and remembered being a young girl and falling madly in love with the burly Nord, and she remembered days before that when he had taught her how to use an axe, and she in turn had taught him how to hunt game with a bow. He would bring her flowers and she would forge him blades. Eventually she became so lost in memories that she could not feel the carriage slowing. They were nearing the middle of a village square, it seemed.

_Helgen._

All conversation fell deathly silent. The place was a small Imperial village a short ways west of her own hometown. Her parents had been raised here. They passed a number of small stone houses with thatched roofs as the line of carriages moved slowly along, drawing the attention of both locals and travelers alike as they milled about with their own business. Everyone around them stopped to watch the Stormcloak prisoners being sent off to their execution.

_Execution._

The word was an icy dagger in Thales' gut. The thought of dying by decapitation made her blood boil. She had never wanted to die on her knees. She was the woman who laughed in the face of oblivion, and now she would die with the other prisoners who had truly done wrong. She could dream of a daring escape with her childhood sweetheart as much as would dull her anxiety. But that was not how this day would end.

It wasn't long before the carriages drew to a halt in the middle of the square, about six of them in all. Thales watched as the drivers left their horses to lead each prisoner from their carriage. A bearded Imperial donning the colours of his empire moved towards the front of their cart and opened it. It was Ulfric Stormcloak to move first, and she saw that the driver deliberately moved to grab him and throw the larger man from the carriage and onto the stone beneath. Ulfric offered no restraint, and the thief was led from the cart next, his protests tremulous and weak. He was dressed in rags in place of Stormcloak colours, but the Imperial kicked him to the ground just the same. Ralof gave Thales a short nod and a fleeting look of sympathy before moving to join his fellow Stormcloaks, and Thales herself joined him soon after, her legs trembling as she shot the driver a sharp, venomous glare and spat at his feet before he threw her from the carriage.

Men and women in red garbs were all around them, two standing just ahead. A woman - presumably the captain judging by her steel armour and intricate helm - narrowed her eyes at the hoards of prisoners while a Nord man with red hair stood with a quill and ledger.

"Step towards the block when we call your name!" The woman barked. "One at a time!"

"Empire loves their damned lists," Ralof muttered.

The other Imperial cleared his throat before beginning to run through his list of names. "Ulfric Stormcloak," he began, "Jarl of Windhelm."

The Jarl moved towards the block calmly, as instructed.

"Lokir of Rorikstead."

The thief pushed past the crowds to face the Imperials. Thales bit her tongue as she watched him beg. "No, no, please, you have to listen! I wasn't with the Stormcloaks, I swear it! I was trying to get past the border, t-to get to Hammerfell! This is all just a big misunderstanding, and if you could just let me go I promise, I swear that I'll never-"

"Step towards the block, thief," the woman growled.

"No... No, no, never!" The thief cried, shoving past the Imperial and bolting ahead at full speed."You'll never take me!"

_"Archers!" _The woman yelled.

Thales winced as the Imperials standing by drew their bows, sending three steelpointed arrows flying in his direction. She watched, unable to avert her eyes, as one caught the fleeing thief in the back, the other catching his arm and the final arrow impaling the back of his kneecap, quickly sending him to the ground with only a feeble cry of pain.

"Anyone else feel like running?" The captain questioned.

"I suppose we'll get on with this, then," her companion said. "Ralof of Riverwood."

The Stormcloak nodded and disappeared into a see of blue as he joined his fellow captured soldiers.

A number of names were called after that, some Thales recognised from stories and hearsay. Nords from every background, and every one a Nord. Other names she had never heard of, and some she had even met before from her days traveling. Traders, husbands, barkeeps, mothers, farmers, all of which had taken up Ulfric's cause, whatever it was. One by one men and women disappeared around her until Thales was on her own, glowering at the surrounding Imperials and muttering expletives in their direction.

"You there." The red-haired Nord looked in her direction with his brow knitted in confusion. "You're not on the list. Step forward."

She did.

"Who are you?"

She took a deep breath. Squared her shoulders. Lifted her chin and allowed her lips to play a mocking smirk at the Imperials in front of her, the men and women whom she had once trusted to protect her. Maybe her chance of escape had long past, but she wouldn't allow these cowards to forget her name when they sentenced her to decapitation. That wasn't the Nord way. It wasn't _her_ way.

"Who am I, you ask? Why, I'm surprised you don't know. I am Thales Rosewhite of Skyrim, master of the blade and the finest warrior from here to the Sea of Ghosts. Daughter of Ulrik Rosewhite, one of the finest blacksmiths to ever grace this land with his craft. I am a mercenary, a protector. I am Thales Rosewhite, and I am innocent."

There was silence for some time before the captain spoke. "Looks like we have ourselves a brave, fearless Nord. I'm impressed," she said with a nod of approval. "Now, Thales Rosewhite of Skyrim, go."

She blinked, taken aback by the sudden command. "Go?"

"Of course. Go and join the other brave sons and daughters of Skyrim! Over by the chopping block."

Her blood ran cold through her veins; a sudden pang in her chest stole the air from her lungs and she moved towards the chopping block without hearing the sound of her own footsteps. The Imperials guarding every escape route were merely red blurs in her vision, their colours matching the blood in her cheeks. She couldn't well make out the chopping block, but the gleaming scythe of a man in a black cowl was all too much to bear. She didn't feel Ralof's bound arms attempting to hold her steady, but she leaned against him anyway, finding that her feet couldn't seem to hold ground. She would find admiration from no one here, and no honour in this death.

"Thales... Thales..." Ralof's voice was quiet, offering the warmth and comfort of a bottle of mead, guiding her back into her cruel reality and soothing her, although she could only make out some of his words. "Most courageous woman I've ever seen... You will die just the same... People will remember you as..."

It was a moment before she could find her footing again. As she straightened herself, her eyes found the dandelion garb of a priestess, her arms raised high into the air and her long sleeves brushing against the ground. She could only make out some of the words of the prisoners' last rites, and that was all she needed; the sermon was cut short by a red-haired rebel pushing his way through the crowds.

"For the love of Talos, shut up and let's get this over with!"

The priestess blinked at him for a moment, surprised by his outburst. "Yes, uh, very well..."

Thales watched in awe as the Stormcloak knelt by the stone block and positioned his head accordingly. "What are you waiting for? I haven't got all morning!"

The executioner was noticeably taken aback, but he continued with a bemused grunt of sorts as he readied his weapon. Thales was shaken, but she forced herself, to listen to the man's last words. If she miraculously survived this execution, then she supposed it would be her duty to tell this stranger's story. He deserved that much, no matter what he had been fighting for.

"My ancestor's are smiling on me, Imperials. Can you say the same while you sit high on your steeds and watch as good men are slaughtered?! You disgrace your own kind! I will find you nowhere in Sovngarde, scum."

And then his head was separated from his body with all the noises of breaking bones and the swinging of an axe. Thales watched, her eyes wide as the man's head rolled into the basket. His body spasmed wildly before rolling aside, leaving room for the next prisoner.

_Next prisoner._

"Next prisoner! We'll have the proud Nord in the dress!"

_No they won't.._

"What are you waiting for?! I said next prisoner!" The captain roared.

And another roar was heard, far off into the distance.

"Captain, there it is again! Do you hear that? I swear those noises have been following us from Darkwater Crossing."

"Next. Prisoner."

Thales steeled herself, remembering the bravery of the man before her.

"We'll meet again in Sovngarde," Ralof promised.

She moved back and smiled at him, tears brimming in her eyes. "In Sovngarde, brother."

"Touching." The captain pushed her way through the prisoners to grab Thales' wrists. "Truly, I am moved," she snarled, dragging her along through the prisoners with a grip as strong and hard as steel, before throwing her out onto the square. "Go. What are you waiting for?!"

Thales glared at the woman with icy contempt, regaining her courage once more. She spat at the captain's feet and moved to the chopping block. She felt the captain's boot at her back, forcing her to kneel and place her head on the cold stone. Taking a long, deep breath, she moved her body just enough so that she could see the sky from beyond the towering keep above, just one last time. She held on to a final moment of serenity, before the scythe came down.

And then she heard it. An ear-splitting road that shook the ground beneath her, sending the executioner tumbling to the ground with a cry of alarm. Thales took her chance and attempted to scramble to her feet, before another earth-shattering roar pierced the sky, the sheer force of the sound knocking her back down. The stone block rushed up to meet her with a sickening 'thud'. She could feel a small trickle of blood running along her face. She looked to sky in desperation, just to see what monster could possibly be causing such destruction.

And the beast landed atop the watchtower, its obsidian wings unfolding and swallowing the blue sky above. Its scales gleamed like sharpened steel against the light as it raised its head to the sky and released another sky-shattering roar, baring rows of wickedly sharp teeth. Stone and mortar crumbled to dust beneath the grip of the monster's talons at it loomed over the edge of the watch tower, scanning the area below. As it eyed the screaming people below, Thales could almost see the look of hatred burning like flames in its eyes. And then they met her own. Her breath hitched in her throat, and the it threw its head back to roar once again. She recognised the word it called, for she had heard it endless times before.

The dragon shook the ground beneath her with a call of **_'DOVAHKIIN.'_**

She was shaken to her senses immediately, scrabbling to her feet once again with a new-found sense of urgency. She looked on the dragon with eyes widened in both awe and terror as it took off into the air, before a voice shook her. "What on Nirn do you think you're doing?!" Ralof yelled. "We need to move! Now!"

She nodded, finding her feet and quickly taking off, Ralof following behind her. She could see Helgen's keep just ahead, a colossal tower of stone that could offer them shelter, but only if they were quick. She dashed for it, brick and mortar flying around her as the dragon reigned fire down on the of agony rang in her ears as the sky was illuminated by a wave of fire. Thales saw her chance and ran for the tower, hearing Ralof's footsteps following closely behind. She moved for the wooden door, already open, and dived inside, gasping for breath.

She was safe.

She sank against the wall, hearing the door slamming shut behind her and seeing that four other Stormcloaks had joined them, including Ralof himself. Ulfric Stormcloak was among the party, attempting to saw off his bonds with the sharp edge of a wooden table positioned across the tower. A woman lay bleeding on a pile of rags, and another rebel comforted her and wiped the sweat and blood from her forehead.

"What... What...?" Thales managed, struggling to find words.

"You know what that was, Thales," Ralof spoke. "And yet I am still having trouble believing it myself. Jarl Ulfric, could the legends be true?"

The Jarl was solemn as he removed what was left of the bindings at his wrists. Removing the gag from the lower half of his face, he looked at his fellow rebel and simply replied, "Legends don't burn down villages."

Ralof groaned in exhaustion and leaned against the door, wiping beads of sweat from his brow. Thales shakily rose to her feet.

There was a dragon attacking Helgen, that much was painfully certain. A dragon, a foretold bringer of the end times, back after hundreds of years, and it was attacking Helgen. As terrible as things would seem, that beast had given her a second chance at escape. She would not sit around for a moment longer. Not when that could mean death.

"We're getting out of here!" She yelled. "We need to go, now!"

At that moment, an almighty roar sounded. Thales could feel the tower shaking around her. Ralof straightened himself, sensing the danger. "Up the tower, let's go! We have to see where this thing takes us!"

Thales nodded, first to move up the winding, spiral staircase. She could hear voices up ahead, and pained grunts of effort. Peering upwards, she could see two other Stormcloaks struggling with a pile of rubble that blocked the rest of the way. A few bricks were coming loose, but they would need more help if they were to make it out of here before the dragon burned it all to ash.

"Need a hand?" Thales asked, heading further up the stairs, "I could try-"

_"Get back!"_

The wall exploded inwards and Thales dived back, almost falling into Ralof behind her as a jet of flame burst through the wall, the sound of the roaring flames almost drowning out the terrified screams from the other side of the staircase. The dragon thrust its head into the tower, throwing more crumbling bricks in their direction. Nothing remained now but wall but a larger pile of rubble, and no bodies could be seen. The beast exhaled another breath of flame, and Thales could feel its warmth against her face before it disappeared again. She could hear it landing atop the watchtower, and felt tremors shaking the steps beneath her feet.

"We don't have much time!" Ralof barked. "There's an inn down there, jump down and run, run as far as you can! We'll catch up to you, I-"

She was gone, not stopping to question her orders before she threw herself out of the gaping hole in the tower. For a moment she was suspended in the air, the wind blowing away her fears before she landed heavily on the inn beneath, falling through the thatched roof and hard onto her shoulder. It was a struggle to get back onto her feet with her wrists still bound tightly together, but she wouldn't allow herself a moment to recover before she took off down the stairs to the floor below.

What remained of the inn was in ruin, all broken beams and upturned furniture. She dashed out into the chaos of the burning town, and was met with a stream of crimson flame that licked the air above her. It was all she could do to duck down and allow the dragon to torch the remains of the building behind her. After the flames had died she got to her feet and her heart stopped. The world grew silent as she beheld the beast before her, landed and looming over two Imperials and a small boy just ahead. Her eyes were fixated on the sheer brilliance that was the dragon; the sheer power that emitted from the age-old beast. The sight was enough to take her breath away, and it did. Until the terrified screams of the child woke her from her daze.

"Papa! Make it go away!"

"Haming!" One Imperial called, fighting to keep his voice steady. "You need to get over here now!"

The boy moved slowly backwards, his gaze fixated on the beast before him as the soldier called out encouragement.

"Atta boy, Haming. You're doing great."

It was only when the boy moved to join the Imperials behind the charred ruins of a building that the dragon released a burst of flames in Thales' direction. She threw herself aside, ducking down by the Imperials as the inn collapsed behind her.

"Gods!" The older Imperial yelled, "Everyone get back!"

"Stay down!" Warned the younger, as the dragon took off once more into the air, sending dust and rubble flying around them. He got to his feet, blade drawn. "I didn't think you'd make it this far, prisoner. Keep close to me if you want to stay alive."

"What use are you against a dragon?" She growled. "And why should I trust you? You seemed all too willing to have me beheaded earlier! I should kill you!" She stared the Imperial down with a venomous glare of contempt. She recognised him as the soldier with the ledger and quill, but his expression had hardened into stone. He turned away to look at his companion who was now comforting the crying child.

"Gunnar," he said, "take care of the boy. I need to find General Tullius and join his defence." He turned to Thales. "Join me and you just might make it out of here."

"I would rather die."

And with that she took off, scanning the area and deciding to follow the western wall until she passed a fallen longhouse. She could see the keep opposite, standing tall and intact. She sprinted for it, her leather boots wearing down to dust as they scraped against the cobblestone. She ran until she heard a familiar voice cutting through the wind in her ears.

_"Stay close to the wall!"_

She had no time to react before her path was blocked by a tremendous scaled wing. The roaring beast swooped down and landed on top of the wall, crushing the stone beneath it. Thales ducked low beneath the dragon's body to avoid the wave of fire that followed. She pressed herself tightly against the stone, a wave of heat burning her face. It was only when the creature took off again that she saw the young Imperial moving towards her.

"Second thoughts, prisoner?"

She gritted her teeth, but made no move against the soldier. As much as it stung her pride, she knew that relying on the man would be the best option available to her. He seemed to at least know where he was going, and she would find her moment to slip away if and when he found the remnants of his legion. She could only hope that she would find Ralof before that happened. If he was still alive, that was.

The soldier found an answer in her silence. "Thought so. Let's get moving."

He led her out through the smouldering remains of a building, the dragon still soaring overhead. When she looked up she found that the sky was swirling with dark clouds. Seeing the keep up ahead, she ran for it, the soldier following close behind until a familiar face caught up with them from the other side of the building.

"Ralof! Ralof you damned traitor!" The Imperial yelled, shoving past Thales to face the Stormcloak, blade drawn. "Outta my way!"

"We're escaping, Hadvar," he challenged, "and you're not stopping us. Not this time."

For a moment the soldier, Hadvar, looked ready to slit the Stormcloaks throat. After a moment, however, he stood back. "Get out of here. You too, prisoner. Go! But I hope that dragon takes you both to Oblivion!"

The call of another Imperial drew Hadvar's attention from the pair, and he ran to join his fellow soldier, leaving Thales and Ralof left in the middle of the chaos.

"What are you waiting for?" Ralof asked, "We're getting out of here."

She nodded, and together they disappeared into the keep.


	2. Chapter 2

_We're the children of Skyrim and we fight all our lives,_

_And when Sovngarde beckons,_

_Every one of us dies._

_- Age of Aggression_

* * *

_**"W**_e'll meet again in Sovngarde, brother."

Thales watched as Ralof knelt by the corpse. The Stormcloak bowed his head in respect and gently slid the body's lids over its wide, unseeing eyes. The pool of crimson on the dead man's blue garb destroyed the illusion that he was merely asleep, but she offered no word towards the respectful gesture. She felt more alert now after narrowly escaping the clutches of death, and did not find sympathy for the fallen Stormcloak. She looked at the fresh blood on the corpse and knew that Imperials had to be lurking somewhere around the keep. They had escaped effortlessly from the sympathetic Legionnaire outside, but it was fear that had driven his actions. How would these Imperials react towards the escaped prisoners now that they were safe from the dragon's fire? She doubted they would be so relenting.

"We should keep moving, Ralof," Thales advised, moving towards the body and stooping to collect the iron axe which lay beside it. It was small and light, suitable for one hand. If they managed to avoid the Imperials, it would prove useful in getting her bindings removed, and certainly with less difficulty than Ralof had faced by sawing through the ropes with the edge of a nearby table. She stood up, almost dropping the weapon as she struggled to hold it with bound hands. Ralof quickly took the blade from her.

"Hold out your hands," he said with a sigh. "Those bindings won't remove themselves."

She did as she was bade, allowing him to saw through the ropes until they fell loose onto the floor. Her wrists were red and raw, but the pain was eased slightly by the cool air of the keep. He tossed her the axe, which she caught easily in one hand. She gave it a few quick swings, comfortable enough with its shape and weight. It wasn't a sword, but it was sharp enough to kill a few Imperials with if ever she needed to.

"I prefer something bigger myself," the Nord remarked. "Heavier."

She scoffed. "Not all weapons require the bashing of someone's skull. Smaller blades are far more effective."

"I'll be sure to test that out on you some time," he jested. "I'd like to see you block the swing of a warhammer with your measly little letter opener."

"A shield usually helps with that matter," she retorted. "And if I remember correctly, you begged me to forge you one of my finest shortswords, remember? From that shipment of Imperial steel we had delivered from Whiterun."

"I was eight," he shot back defensively.

"_Sixteen_, you'll find."

"Agh, curse it. I'll say no more on the matter if you make good use of that axe. Maybe by cutting down any Imperials we come across. If we make it out of this room, that is."

She soon found that he was right. They hadn't yet tested to see if the doors on either side of them were even unlocked. And with freed prisoners and a dragon, a bloody _dragon _flying above them, they were not like to be. "You try the one on the left," she ordered. "And do it quietly."

She eyed the iron gate accusingly as she moved towards it, making a futile attempt at pushing it open and rattling the bars. As expected, the thing was locked up tight, showing no signs of giving in. Unless they managed to pull up the grates of the wooden portcullis on Ralof's side, they were trapped until someone else came along, and that could mean their death.

His voice silenced her angered curses. "Get down," he hissed, pressing himself against the rounded wall. "Imperials!"

She pressed herself against the wall, slowly making her way towards the gate with her axe held at the ready. She could hear muffled conversation as the Imperials grew closer. A woman's voice, she realised, barking orders she could not make out. There was silence for a long, lingering moment before a chain was pulled, screeching loudly in protest as the grates were raised. Ralof, unarmed but for a small dagger at his side, sprung into action immediately, lunging for the first Imperial to walk through the opened gate. Thales raised her axe and brought it down onto the head of another, the blow cutting through the soldier's leather helm and splitting his skull neatly in two. The final legionnairre swerved towards Thales, slicing the air with a narrowly avoided swing of her sword. Thales stepped back, meeting the next blow with the curve of her axe and forcing the blade aside, leaving just enough space for her to plant a hard kick on the Imperial's unprotected kneecap. The blow sent her staggering, and Ralof quickly finished her off by grabbing her waist and shoving his dagger through her neck.

"See if one of these Imperials has the key," he grumbled, taking a warhammer from the side of one Imperial and allowing his dagger to clatter on the stone floor. Thales set her war axe aside and took a shortsword from the dead female before beginning to root through the corpse's pockets in search of a key, seeing that the portcullis had fallen shut. Her hand brushed against something small and solid, and she wrapped her fingers tightly around it.

"I found something," she announced, flashing the key towards her companion with a triumphant smile. Getting to her feet, she moved to unlock the door on the opposite side of the room. It opened with a barely audible _'click'. _She gave the Stormcloak a haughty look, raising an eyebrow at him when he responded with a weak smile.

"Come on," he urged. "Let's hurry. Don't want that damned dragon brings the whole tower down on our heads."

She nodded in agreement, hearing his footsteps falling close behind her as she passed through the door.

The room ahead was just as cold and empty as the one they had put behind them, the furniture consisting of an upturned wheelbarrow and a collapsed wooden table, both casting menacing shadows that oozed out along the stone walls. To their left a wide staircase spiralled downwards. She moved towards it wordlessly, sword held tightly in her right hand. She used her left to remove a burning torch from the wall, an annoying but useful habit she had picked up over years of scouring dungeons. Together they descended the stone steps, greeted after a few moments by another small room, with the wall to their immediate right having enough empty space to provide a passage through. After slipping through the gap they found themselves in a long corridor, and Thales began to wonder just how big the keep was until the walls began to shake around them.

"Get down!" Ralof barked, uselessly pressing himself against the wall as the ceiling began to collapse. Thales jumped back into the corner, almost burning herself to death with the torch as her arms moved instinctively in front of her face. There was an almighty '_crack_', and at first it was only dust that fell before the rest came down, all brick and rubble and mortar blocking the passage ahead, sending a cloud of dust floating into the air around them. The air was heaby with the stench of smoke and dragonfire. She could even hear the beast roaring far off into the distance, enough to make the walls tremble.

"By the Nine," she breathed, peering out from the corner to witness the destruction ahead. "We're lucky that didn't come down on us."

'Right you are," her friend replied grimly. "That damned dragon doesn't give up easily."

Gathering her nerve once again, Thales directed her attention towards the wooden door at the left wall. Keeping her sword at the ready she nodded to the Nord at her side and moved towards it, pausing for a moment before striking it with her foot, sending it flying open with a '_BANG_' as it hit the wall. The pair quickly headed into the room, a storeroom by the look of it, although she couldn't find much time to closely observe her surroundings. An urgent call of "_W__hat was that?!_" came from a man just ahead. Thales could already make out the shadows of three soldiers flickering against the walls.

The Imperials charged for the escapees as soon as their eyes locked on them, two men raising warhammers and one elvish woman bearing a longsword with all the width of a sewing needle. Ralof ran for the largest of the men, yelling a battle cry and raising his warhammer high. Thales jumped into action as the elf sliced through the air, leaving her only a moment to parry the blow. The fight went on like a dance; parry, blow, slice, jump, dodge, swing, until Thales was nearly out of breath and Ralof had taken down the first of the men. Her next swing was too quick for the elf, but she managed to parry it just in time. But the elf was growing hasty with desperation, giving no thought to the opening she had left at her abdomen. Thales moved before her opponent could react, impaling her gut with the blade. She had only time to kick the body away before Ralof gave her a frantic shout. She turned in time to see a warhammer swinging at her, and ducked underneath the blow before it could swipe her head from her shoulders.

"Damn - there's more of them!" He called, cracking his warhammer over the final Imperial's head as a chorus of footfall steady grew louder.

_"There they are!"_

They emerged all at once, at least eight filling up the storeroom, led by two male captains. They charged at once. Warhammers, axes and blades all larger than her own came in at her from both sides. It was all she could do to defend her own life, using the lit torch in her left hand to swat the Imperials away before she felt the thing torn from her grip.

"Thales, go!" Ralof barked, torch in hand.

She hesitated. If she left him he would die. But he would die even if she stayed, with her corpse by his.

She readied her blade.

The Stormcloak continued to fight them off valiantly, slowly moving backwards and backwards before he flung the torch over their heads, sending it flying towards a bookshelf behind them. The fire spread quickly until it was catching on the rug right underneath their feet. He ran towards the door on the opposite side of the room, grabbing Thales by the arm and pulling her along with him. With a final pitying glance at the Imperials desperately trying to extinguished the spreading flames, Thales followed her friend, shutting the door behind her and bolting it tight.

"That was hardly the most honourable choice of action," Thales grumbled as they moved along the dark hallway ahead.

"They didn't leave me much choice, I-" Ralof paused as they turned a right corner and quietly descended the stone steps. "Troll's blood..."

She blinked. "Pardon?"

"It's a _torture _room. Hear that?"

She opened her mouth to reply, but quickly shut it when she looked down at the room ahead. She could already make out a steel cage from the room below, and an elongated table with leather shackles. She could hear the crackling of electricity as she moved down further, and saw a hooded figure casting his magick.

She moved quickly, blade drawn and ready. Abandoning the remaining steps, she took a small leap and was on the torturer before he knew what was going on, cutting into his right arm and vanishing the lightning. He cried out in pain, stepping back to face her. With an angered snarl he outstretched his left arm, revealing the ball of flame swelling in his palm. She made a quick double-step to the Imperial's left side, sending her blade slicing the air above his head in a carefully rehearsed feint before sending the blade down on his left hand, severing it from his arm. The torturer screamed in agony, a sound that she silenced quickly with her blade to his throat. The death was merciful.

By the time she looked up another man in a red and brown garb was dead on the stone beneath, and Ralof stood conversing idly with two other Stormcloaks, a man and woman. Both were blonde and fair of skin, the woman with crimson war paint running in an elegant slope from around her eyes to her jawline on both sides of her face.

"Ralof, it's good to see you," the woman smiled, her accent thickly Nordic and straight from Windhelm. "Just in time as well."

"We might have been dead without you and your companion here," the man agreed.

"Then it's lucky we came when we did." Thales offered a warm smile at the pair. "Come, join us. The way out can't be too far off."

"Great idea," the woman began, "but I would rather wait here with my brother in case any Imperials come this way. I'm sure we'll catch up with Jarl Ulfric soon."

Ralof nodded, but his eyes betrayed a sense of doubt. "Good luck to you, Inga. And to you too, Fjalgir."

The three Stormcloaks drew their weapons and walked with Thales along the torture room until they found the exit, with Inga's promise of seeing them off. What lay ahead was a long hallway of cells, about six on each side. Thales winced as she walked along, the footsteps of her companions echoing in the emptiness. She flinched when her eyes found a skeleton chained to the wall by its crumbling wrists, the skull's hollow sockets staring forever into the darkness. A cold chill danced along her spine. She did not feel at ease again until the hallway was far behind them.

They turned left and descended another set of stairs, opening out into a wide basement. Her eyes flickered towards a huge cage mounted on the wall, seeing a crumbling skeleton still gripping the bars with the bones of its fingers. She shivered as they continued along the room, seeing a similar scene up ahead with two dead prisoners sharing one large birdcage. Just up ahead the wall had collapsed to dust, opening into a long tunnel. She moved closer to it, peering through the gap and hearing the sound of flowing water from somewhere far away.

"Looks like the only way we're getting out of here," she remarked. "Best not waste any time."

* * *

_**T**_hey didn't. The way ahead was a long network of tunnels, opening out into a deserted chasm where a stream flowed beautifully underneath the stone walkway, glittering in the sunlight peering through cracks in the walls. They moved through the place in sullen silence until they found their path obstructed by fallen rubble. Thales silently thanked the Divines that the tunnel offered another opening to their right. Still she could feel the rock around them shaking, and hear the chaos from above.

"Looks like a death trap," muttered Ralof. "The walls could come crumbling down on us at any moment."

"And they will do so whether we stay here or not," she reminded him. "This is our only way out of here, Ralof."

"... Yes. Yes, we'd better press on."

Their shadows were giants, beckoning for them to journey further and further beneath the keep. Thales fancied the thought of sunlight on her face once again, but their path seemed to slope forever downwards until they found another cave opening, blocked by thick webbing.

_Frostbite Spiders._

"This doesn't look good," Ralof muttered. "Hate spiders. Too many eyes, you know? And the legs..." He shuddered. "Think you can cut through that mess?"

"Of course," she replied with a playful smirk, readying her blade and beginning to hack through the spider web. Her sword severed the thick strands with each cut and slice, until finally most of it had come loose. With one final groan of effort she brought her blade down on the remaining entanglement and severed the final strands. They had passage through, though the sight ahead was far from welcoming.

Their path led them through to another large cave, its walls thick with spider web. Humongous egg sacs lay cracked open on the ground; clumps of white strands hung from the ceiling, and Thales saw the dark, half-formed shapes of skeevers hanging suspended from single strings of web. It was only when she drew closer that she found they were not skeevers at all.

The spiders made their quick descent from the ceiling, growing larger and larger as they went until at last, when they landed, they challenged the size of any grown man. Three of them in all, they scuttled towards the intruding Nords faster than they could ready themselves, their pincers clicking and their long, furry legs brushing against the webbed floor beneath.

"Wonderful,' Thales grinned, moving quickly towards the nearest beast. With a quick swing of her sword she managed to slice through its face, though that did little to slow it down. She jumped back as the creature snapped at her with fangs oozing inky poison, before burying her blade into the monster's head. With a cry of rage, Ralof finished off the second, leaving only the third behind to face. He swung in warhammer in a wide arc, bringing it down heavily to crush its right legs. Thales cut her way through the left side and together they brought down their blade's onto the thing's grotesque, furry body, silencing the clicking at last.

"Damned ugly things," Ralof spat. "Glad that's over."

"Do you see that?" Thales asked, gesturing towards the long crack of light in the wall up ahead. "We're almost there."

"Then what are you waiting for? Let's get a move on."


	3. Chapter 3

_But a day, shall arise, when the dark dragon's lies, will be silenced forever and then!_  
_Fair Skyrim will be free from foul Alduin's maw, Dragonborn be the saviour of men!_

_- Song of the Dragonborn_

* * *

"Get down!"

Ralof's voice was sharp as he moved behind the mound of rocks, grabbing Thales' wrist and yanking her down along with him. Lowering herself behind the shade of the rocks, she pressed her raw palms against the smooth stone, thankful for its cold surface to soothe the pain of where the ropes had burned her. As she crouched, the familiar beating of huge, leathery wings sounded from above. Thales quickly looked upwards, and she could feel the breath being stolen from her lungs as she saw the sky swallowed by an mass of obsidian. The dragon roared far up overhead, shaking the ground beneath her feet as she gazed at it with an expression of both awe and terror. That creature, that beast, was a monstrous thing of legend, of the tales she grew up with and the stories she had been told to scare the children of her village into bed. And yet, as a young girl she had always dreamed of such a monster returning to Skyrim, having grown up with wondrous stories of the Blades, tales of the great dragon Numinex being captured by the Nords in Dragonsreach and, of course, the tale of the Dragonborn. The Dovahkiin.

Yet the town of Helgen burned behind them and there was no Dragonborn to be found. She had watched the earth crumble around her, seen a village reduced to rubble and ash. Thick, black smoke billowed from behind the crumbling stone walls, and the crackling of dragonfire was all the noise that remained, the ghost of the villagers' dying screams as their walls were crushed between a dragon's talons. And every one of them was dead. The young boy she had seen trying to watch the prisoners from his father's shoulders. _Dead. _The sympathetic Imperial who had let them go free. _Dead._ Every man and woman she had traded goods with back when she had lived in Skyrim, even the lovely old woman who had always offered her a free bottle mead when she passed through the inn. Every one of them had burned.

There was no Dragonborn.

With a sinking feeling in her chest she got to her feet again, moving out towards the cobblestone pathway. Despite the icy tendrils wrapping around her heart, she could not shake the strangest sensation of relief. Her fate had been with a stone block and an executioner's scythe. Her fate had surely been dragonfire and despair. She should have burned with all the rest of them, yet here she was.

"There he goes," Ralof remarked, sitting himself down on the flat stump of a felled tree and looking thoughtfully to the sky as the dragon disappeared from view. She could see the faintest hint of a smile on his face. "Looks like he's gone for good this time. Thank the Nine for that." He glanced in Thales' direction. "You are not hurt?"

She shook her head, not yet trusting her own voice to conceal her shock. There would be time later to mull these events over. But for now, at least, she remained physically unharmed. Although her body still ached and her lungs were burning, the warm sun against her face and the soil beneath her boots would be enough to keep her going until they made it to Riverwood.

_Riverwood._

"How long has it been?" She asked. "Since you've been home?"

Ralof sighed. "Too damn long."

"Well then," she offered a hand to the Stormcloak. "We shouldn't keep them waiting for us any longer."

He looked at her with a growing smile, taking her hand and hauling himself up to his feet. "Right you are," he chuckled. "Just think of the look on Alvor's face when he sees the both of us together again."

"He'll be calling a priestess of Dibella down to have us married before we can step through his front door," she jested.

"If marriage meant a warm bed and a decent drink, I'd exchange vows with you this moment."

"I'd have your head on my mantel before you could lean in for a kiss."

"I'm tired enough to take my chances."

They set off at once down the path, neither of them willing to waste another second with chat. Thales' eyes grew wide as she admired her surroundings. It was like stepping into the haze of a half-forgotten memory. She had never spent more than a day at a time in Helgen, but she knew this path like the back of her own hand. The sloping hill descended into a lower valley surrounded entirely by trees. The leaves glistened against the sunlight and flowers of all colours and properties waved to them as they walked by, each surrounded by a number of large blue butterflies. If she looked hard enough into the distance she could even detect the occasional flash of brown fur from the rabbits that bounded through the grass. They walked in silence along the path for some time, both silently appreciating the joyous chirping of birds overhead and the cool breeze on their faces as they turned to follow the path west, descending lower towards the sound of flowing water.

"Look!" Thales exclaimed, as their path curved to the east again and one of her favourite views in Skyrim broke past the green leaves. She needed only to move a short few steps ahead to find Bleak Falls Barrow far off into the distance, a Nordic tomb perched on the snowy mountaintop beyond, with three stone archways descending along its slope. Shrouded by white mist and swirling clouds, the tomb had stood firmly on that mountain for what must have been centuries, as hauntingly beautiful as it was ominous. As a girl Thales had longed to visit the place, just to see what ancient wonders lay within. She fancied herself wise enough now to realise that the place would be crawling with Draugr. She fancied herself wise enough now to know that the dead should be left to rest in peace. She did not, however, find herself wise enough to care.

"Ah, that old place," Ralof remarked. "Never did know why you liked the sight of that thing. Always gave me the creeps, you know? Must be that mist..."

Thales rolled her eyes. "You were scared of mudcrabs back then, Ralof."

He grunted. "And I assume you're still terrified of sabre cats?"

The sharp glare he received in reply was enough to buy his silence.

They followed the path for some time, Thales walking ahead and lightly tracing her fingers along her cheek. She could feel the indentations from where the beast had marked her. Although she had plenty of scars, these three that stood out most prominently on her the left side of her face, beginning at the inner corner of her eye and stretching in jagged lines across her cheek until it met her jaw line. She had been only eleven when the damn cat had attacked her, and ever since she could never abide the beasts. She wouldn't admit her fear though, and only took noticeable measures to avoid running into them on her travels. But admitting her fear was considerably more favourable than admitting that the animal had left her blind in one eye. She had thrown such a royal fit about it that her father had taken her to a priestess in Whiterun. Her injured eye had been healed, but her sight would not return.

She soon left the thought of sabre cats behind, enjoying the sun that burned overhead until at last Ralof spoke again.

"Here we are," Ralof announced. "Your favourite place in the world."

Her face broke into a wide grin when she saw it. It wasn't Riverwood, not yet, but a close reminder of the village she loved so dearly. Their path curved to the west, sloping downwards towards the gently flowing river, and just as she turned around the corner her eyes found them, standing tall and proud as they had always done. The Standing Stones, three in total, towering over the circular ring of stone that lay beneath them. She raced towards the artefacts, not paying mind to how the cobblestone scratched against her feet, destroying her boots even further. Creep Clusters still grew over the stone platform just as she remembered, and the stones were marked with the familiar carvings of the Thief, Mage, and Warrior, each stone about the height of Ralof, with a small, empty hole near their top.

"Haven't prayed to the old Warrior in some time," Ralof remarked, moving to join her. "You should give it a try. Might bring you some luck in battle. Not that you've ever needed it."

The Warrior Stone stood to her left. She moved for it, outstretching a hand and slowly gliding it over the smooth rock, over the intricate swirling marks and etchings. She closed her eyes and, not once moving her hand from the cold stone surface, uttered a soft prayer under her breath. It was one her father had told her, only one verse. She was quite sure he had made it up, but she didn't mind. In fact, she would often have whispered it to herself before ever going out to fight, but that had been when she was barely a woman.

_"Bring me strength to stand in flame, bask in honour, once again."_

When she opened her eyes again she found her vision filled with shining blue light. Stepping back, she watched as every marking in the rock was filled with liquid topaz and silver, flowing upwards along the intricate curves to form a glowing ball of light where a hole had been left near the top of the stone. The light grew and grew, shooting up into the air and piercing the clouds with its brilliance. Thales stood back, stretching her neck and balancing on her tiptoes to watch the light flow into the sky, and feel her face bathed in sunlight. She laughed.

"You know that's not a real prayer, don't you?" Ralof asked, brows raised.

"It brings me luck in battle," she protested. "So what does it matter?"

Ralof nodded in understanding. "Still the naïve young lass you always were when you left, is that right?"

She frowned. "What do you mean?"

"Nothing, nothing," he relented.

"You worry too much." She shoved the blond playfully, hopping off the stone platform. "We need only follow the river now. We'll be there in no time at all."

With a nod, Ralof continued wordlessly on after her, and they moved down along the path until they were level with the rushing water. She watched it with a bemused smile, loving how it glittered silver in the sunlight, reflecting blurred, dancing images of the trees that towered high above. The silence was peaceful for a while, until she noticed Ralof shifting uncomfortably.

"Something bothering you?" She inquired with a frown.

"Nothing, nothing. Ah, well... I'm just wondering why you left, I suppose. Why you took off in the middle of the night."

"I had nothing to stay for," she replied coldly. It was funny, she thought, how vivid her memories were from so long ago. She could remember the crushing feeling in her chest when her uncle had told her, ushering her inside and sitting her down to honeyed milk by the fire. The crackling flames had offered her no comfort, no warmth. She had locked herself away for days on end, leaving only for long walks away from the village, or to tear up an old training dummy with her sword. For such a long time she avoided the forge that lay just by their home. By _her _home. The flames that had burned so brightly there had died along with her father.

"You could have said something," he grumbled. "Talked to _me _instead of that damn elf. You could have stayed, Thales."

She stopped in her tracks. "What was I supposed to say to you? How did you expect me to stay in that house with that vile _wretch _of a woman stumbling through the door every night, too drunk to know that her husband was dead?!" She gritted her teeth. "No. There was no place for me there. My mother was too cowardly to even cling onto her own life. Her death was hope for me, Ralof, do you not understand that? Could you not understand why I had to leave before my own thoughts drove me mad?!"

"No!" He yelled. "If you'd been wise then you would have stayed. Your father was a good man, but foolish. He decided he wanted to have an adventure, and look where that got him! And yet you craved the exact same damn thing." He blew out a sigh. "I shouldn't have mentioned it. You left, and I can't change that. But I didn't expect to ever see you again, and here you are. Can we at least say we missed each other?"

She clenched her fist and nodded. "I did."

Those words seemed to melt the anger off him. "Good to see you again, Thales."

"You too."

The path soon broadened out and the trees declined in number. Mushrooms and flowers grew along the pathway. She recognised every one. She remembered chopping up Fly Amanita and Blisterworts for her father's stew, and plucking lavender for Faendal, who treasured its alchemical properties. Even now she could fondly recall-

_No_.

She had not returned to Skyrim to relive past memories with the people she had left behind. A dragon had attacked Helgen and they had only just made it out with their lives. Maybe soon there would come a time for reminiscing, but this was not it. Someone had to get word to the Jarl of Whiterun. She needed gear and some coin to her name. She needed to get Ralof quickly to safety before the Imperials learned of his escape. More important matters were at hand now, and her childhood was long enough in the past.

Ralof's voice shook her from her thoughts. "This is it," he said. "Home."

She looked up. Just ahead of them, a wide stone wall stretched out along the broadened path. A couple of Whiterun guards strolled atop it, sheltered from the sunlight by the thatched roof above them. To the right of the wall lay a few bedrolls and a campfire, and beyond the wall to the left she could already make out the mill situated at the bank of the river, its wheel turning steadily and splashing glistening water. Her face broke into a smile as they passed through the long opening in the wall. Already she could see villagers milling about the place, seemingly unaware of the dragon that must surely have passed them. To the right of her an old woman who must have been Hilde tanned leather on a rack, and a young boy chased his dog around the village. Her heart danced in her chest when she looked to the blacksmith's home to her left, the very place that had once been her own. And standing at the forge right outside with his back turned to her was a man. He wore a brown blacksmith's apron, and a tangle of blonde hair fell below his shoulders.

"Alvor!" She called, abandoning Ralof in her haste. Her uncle turned, revealing the unchanged Nordic features that matched her father's so well. His face was mostly concealed by a shaggy blonde beard, but she could still see his eyes widening in awe as he saw his niece running to envelop him in a wide hug.

"Thales?" He asked, stepping back and looking down at her with wide eyes. "What... How? What are you doing here?!"

"It's a long story," she began, before another voice interrupted her.

"Ralof?! By the Gods, I'm so happy to see you!"

Thales turned to find a blonde woman rushing up the path to meet the Stormcloak. It was Gerdur, Thales guessed, from the sheer delight in the other woman's tone. As she hitched up her skirts and ran to hug him, it was not hard to believe that the two were siblings. Their features were strikingly similar, though Gerdur's face was less rugged and, and her body smaller and lighter than her brother's.

"What... What is this?" Alvor asked, blinking in his bafflement. "Thales, what happened?"

Looking to Thales and her uncle, Ralof pulled away from his sister's hug with eyebrows knitted in concern. "Alvor, if you would join us for a moment. These matters would be better discussed in private."

He nodded in understanding, following Ralof across the bridge, towards the mill. Thales followed along sightly, eyeing Gerdur with distaste as she hurried along after her brother. Ralof sat himself down on a tree stump by the mill, burying his head in his hands while Thales stood by her uncle, who glanced at her expectantly. She could find no words to console him.

"I..." Ralof began, looking up at the people around him, "Gods, I don't even know where to start. We were moving with Ulfric Stormcloak through Dark Water Crossing when the Imperials ambushed us, led by General Tullius himself. I don't know how they found us, but it was as if they knew exactly where we would be, where we were going. I don't remember much about the battle, only that we were outnumbered, surrounded by archers. I must have been knocked out, and when I woke I was in a carriage with Thales, some thief from Rorikstead, and Ulfric himself. They sent us off to Helgen to be executed. Didn't plan on giving Ulfric a fair trial either. I resolved to make my peace with them, not wanting to die bitter and resentful. But just as Thales knelt down by the block to be beheaded..." She felt the atmosphere shift at that word, and felt Alvor flinching beside her. "Gods..."

"What happened?" Alvor pressed. "Thales? How did you both escape?"

She looked at her uncle. "A dragon attacked, Alvor. It burned Helgen to the ground."

For a moment his expression was uncertain, as if he couldn't tell whether she was jesting or not. But the sincerity in her eyes must have swayed him. "Truly?" He asked. "A dragon, from the old-"

"From the stories and the legends, _yes. _There was a dragon. It landed on the watchtower above me before the scythe came down. We used that moment to get away. Even with the dragon attack, the Imperials were still intent on capturing us again. We fought our way through them and escaped." She frowned. "Are we truly the first ones to pass through here?"

"I haven't seen anyone else coming through the south gate today," Gerdur confirmed, her tone grave before a thought struck her. "Someone needs to tell Jarl Balgruuf in Whiterun about this! If there truly was a dragon - and perhaps that old woman isn't mad after all - then Riverwood is defenceless."

"I will gladly send word to the Jarl," Thales offered. Right now, some time in Riverwood seemed like the least important thing to her. What matters could be more pressing than a dragon attack?

"Without even stopping for a moment to explain?"

"We have no _time _for explanations, uncle!"

"At least tell me where you've been for all these years! Please."

She opened her mouth to object once again, but quickly stopped herself upon seeing the pain in her uncle's expression. "I… I've been in Cyrodiil. Selling my talents there and-" She was suddenly silenced by the wide-eyed look of horror on the man's face. "My talents as a _warrior,_ you fool! I was a sellsword, protecting traders, clearing out bandit holes. After a few years I found that the work grew dull, just walking the same roads and fighting off rogue wolves and spiders. I decided I was ready to come home. The Imperials didn't bother to distinguish a travelling cloak from a blue cuirass. They shot my horse down and captured me. They _knew_ I was innocent and yet they sent me to the block. If it weren't for the dragon I would be… Well, I can't imagine that we'd still be having this conversation. And if you are so eager to catch up, then tell me, Alvor, what have I missed?"

He scowled at her. "Do you truly care so little about your hometown? About us?"

She hesitated. "You know I-"

"I finally married Sigrid," he said with a wry smile. I sent a letter to Whiterun, thinking you were there. And you missed the birth of your first niece."

"My... My niece? Uncle, I… I _am_ sorry, truly. By the Nine I truly, I… I haven't been thinking straight. But you know we don't have long. I _cannot _just sit down and drink and catch up with old friends as much as I would love to, and-"

"Papa!"

She turned to see a young girl, no more than ten years old, running across the bridge to join the group. Hitching up her skirts, she sprinted across the grass and leapt for Alvor, jumping up and hugging him tightly. "Papa! Papa! Hilde says she saw a _dragon! _Did you see it? Did you?!" Pulling away from him, she turned and looked at Thales, then turned to Ralof and gasped in delight. "Did _they _see a dragon?"

Chuckling nervously, Alvor put an arm around the child, gently pulling her close to him. "Now, now, Dorthe. There was no dragon, don't worry. Now, why don't you-"

"But _papa, _Hilde says there was a _dragon!"_

A smile broke across Thales' face. She moved towards the girl, crouching down to meet her height. "A dragon, you say?"

"Uh-huh!"

"Well…" she lowered her voice to a hush, eyeing Alvor suspiciously before giving her a sincere look. "I _did _see a dragon."

"Really? Really?Was it big?"

"_Enormous."_

_"_Did it breathe fire? Did it?"

"Oh my goodness, yes!"

"Wow! I have to go tell Frodnar!"

And with that the girl was off, giggling as she raced over the bridge.

"Dorthe!" Alvor called. "Tell Frodnar to keep an eye on the south road!"

"_Okaaaaaay!"_

Thales got up and straightened herself as Gerdur pointedly cleared her throat. "You'll be going to tell the Jarl about this, won't you?" She asked.

"I don't know," she replied pointedly. "My uncle believes that sitting around and catching up would be more important."

"Damn you, Thales," Alvor grumbled. "Fine. I should have some armour left over that will fit you, good iron stuff. Ralof, you'd better join us. Can't have you running around in that Stormcloak garb with Imperials passing through."

"Sounds like a good idea," he replied.

"I'll go and tell Hod you're back," Gerdur smiled. "It's great to see you, brother." She glanced at Thales, her body visibly stiffening. "And you too, Thales."

"Always a pleasure, Gerdur."

Alvor clapped his hands together. "Right. Let's get you out of here."


End file.
